Drakmanka Writes a Short Story: Drak's Friendly Flight

The great black dragon swooped low, angling her great body and wings to come in for a slow, steady landing on the carefully maintained grass of the runway. The sun shone on her scales, making each one gleam like a point of polished obsidian, and her translucent purple wings seemingly glow, backlit by the sunlight.

At the appropriate moment she tilted her wings back, flaring them wide, and then began powerful sweeping backstrokes to bring her in for a smooth and gentle landing. Her hind feet touched the ground first, and then she let herself fall forward, her front feet absorbing the rest of her momentum. She shook her wings out and then folded them to her sides. Her tail tip idly flicked from side to side as she looked around, her eyes finally settling on one specific house that stood along this simple airstrip.

With delicate steps, lest her claws rend the well-tended grass of the runway, she made her way into the yard and settled herself in the shade of the large and sweet-smelling apple tree that dominated much of the back yard of this house. Flying insects buzzed about, interested in the fruit that has fallen from the tree. They didn't concern her; not even the largest and meanest wasps in this world could do more than annoy her scaley hide. Unless they chanced to sting her sensitive ears, that is. Her left ear twitched involuntarily at the thought.

An apple fell from the tree then, striking her enameled horns and bouncing, tumbling through the air until it reached the ground beside her front feet. She glanced up, noting how heavily laden with fruit the tree was.

Her eyes fixed on one fruit in particular, and with a telekinetic command it loosened from its stem and began to fall. She tipped back her head and opened her mouth just enough to let it fall against her sharp, catlike teeth. Their sharp tips sliced into its skin and flesh and the wounded fruit spattered her tongue and cheeks with juice that was equal parts sweet and bitter. She savored the flavor for a moment before gently letting the rest of the fruit tumble to the ground with the others. A taste did no harm, but dragons were not made to eat fruit, after all.

She glanced down to ensure she wouldn’t harm any of the buzzing insects around her, then gently folded her front paws beneath her and wrapped her tail around herself, assuming a catlike relaxed pose. Leaning her neck back and tucking her chin against her neck, she closed her eyes and flared her nostrils, savoring all the scents around her.

There was the smell of the soil, rich and cool, and atop it the bruised grass she had walked across, sweet and sharp. Then there was the sweet scent of the bruised and crushed apples that attracted so many bees and other flying insects. And there… there it was. Human. Warm, welcoming, a soft aroma that so many mammalian species had but tempered by scents only humans produced: the scents of clothing and their detergents, the scent of shampoo and soap, all mingling with the natural smells of the body to produce a special odor she had only found to exist among that one, remarkable species.

Here he comes, then. She thought, her ears swiveling about to listen for the light footsteps that belied the true nature of her visitor. It was the rustling of fabric and a soft sound of metal ringing as it was struck that reached her ears first. She cracked one eye open. Yes, there he was, carrying a burden of fabric, leather, and metal fixtures. Good, he was able to find the right materials.

Opening her mouth slightly, she began to produce a deep, infrasound rumble. In her own language, the sound is a friendly greeting between old friends. To someone the size of a human it would feel like having your very skeleton vibrated, albeit in a pleasant fashion. Almost as though the world’s largest cat were purring all around you.

She opened her eyes as she completed her native greeting and swiveled her neck around to look at him directly. Knowing her real voice would be inadequate for communication, she instead chose to project her thoughts telepathically so he would hear her speaking English. “Good morning; are you ready to get started?”

He smiled. She didn’t need to hear his response to know he was ready. “Just help me set this up.” He said, hefting his burden.

The object in question was a dragonrider’s saddle, crafted from instructions taken from her memories of watching the riders of her homeland build and maintain them. The main structure was strong leather. Sewn onto the underside of it was thick plush fur – or in this case human-made microfiber – to protect it from her scales. Even the straps were padded in this way, to ensure there was no way anything on the saddle would come loose in flight. Everything connected with metal loops. Attached to the top of the saddle were leather loops to secure the rider.

Using mental images, she directed him in how the saddle should be laid across her neck and shoulders and secured. She helpfully stood and stretched out her neck to make the process easier. To no surprise of her own, it took little time for the saddle to be secured. Now came the interesting part: it was always tricky for a first-time rider to get up onto a dragon’s back.

In an attempt to make it easier, she crouched down low and extended her left foreleg so he could use it as a step up.

He cautiously stepped up onto her foreleg, gripping the riding straps of the saddle for balance, and with relative ease climbed the rest of the way into the saddle.

She stood still while he looped the riding straps around his legs and tightened them. Only once she was certain he was secure did she shift her weight and move away from the tree where she could stand to her full height without hitting him on a tree branch.

“Okay, I’m ready.” He said.

She swiveled her head around to look at him. He was wearing the heavy coat, gloves, scarf, hat, and goggles she had insisted upon. Unlike the riders she had known in her homeland, they were a mix of different styles and colors, thrown together quickly from what was available instead of carefully selected and crafted with the intention of a lifetime of use. That was okay. Today was a test flight, after all. Time enough, if he wished it, to create ideal flying gear.

With smooth and graceful movements, giving him time to grow accustomed to her body moving beneath him, she walked back toward the grassy runway.

Finding a spot where her hind claws wouldn’t scar the grass too badly, she set her feet and flexed her wings, leaving them open partway to catch the air in the next moments. “Get ready.” She thought to him. “This is the part that’s the most different from airplanes…”

Giving him a couple seconds to prepare, she then crouched low, tensing muscles in all four legs, and in her back. She lowered her head and raised her tail, preparing every sinew of her body for that first and all-important leap skyward.

Then she lunged upward, almost straight up, pushing off first with her front, then hind legs. Her tail clipped the ground as it swung downward even as she shot upward. Then, her wings snapped open and pushed down, causing a whirlwind to flatten the grass below and scatter dandelion seeds everywhere. Then her wings stroked upward again and pushed down once more. With each stroke she pulled them higher into the air, until she felt sufficiently high enough to level off.

Flying for a dragon was almost pure instinct, tempered by experience. She had no hard numbers to tell her what her altitude was, only a deep-seated understanding of right to tell her when to level off her ascent.

To her immense joy, the yelling coming from her back was not of surprise or of fear, but of unbridled joy and exhilaration. A deep purr rumbling within her chest, she banked tightly, her wings cupping the air and her neck and tail twisting toward each other to accomplish the maneuver, giving her rider and friend a good view of the land below them that so recently had been all around them. Then she leveled off and began steady, rhythmic strokes with her wings, gradually picking up speed as she made for a distant snow-capped mountain. She didn’t intend to reach it; no, it was merely an easy landmark in skies she was still growing familiar with.

As she sped up, she began to gently climb again, her whole body arching and rippling through the air with each wingbeat, building a resonance within her powerful muscles that conserved energy.

As they rose, she entered a cloud. The water droplets tickled her nostrils and ears, and she closed her water lids – her nictitating membranes – so it would not make her eyes water and blur her vision.

As they exited the cloud, a gust of wind struck her and she flared her wings wide and high to catch it, shifting the angle of her body in the air to ride the unexpected air current to higher altitudes with greater ease. She tilted her head to look toward the ground, watching as structures and trees grew ever smaller. Soon. She thought to herself, resuming flapping as the wind died down.

Never before had she had the privilege to carry someone who was already experienced in flight before. Gone was the usual need to be gentle and careful, to never fly too high, to take care not to jostle or startle her passenger. He knew the skies as well as she did, if through a different lens. And who could ever blame them for crafting a means to come up here? She wondered with pride as she thought of the ingenuity of humanity.

She glanced groundward again. Now. She reached out with her mind toward his, and projected words to him that could be heard even over the rush of the wind: “Hold on tight, here we go…”

Then she rolled in the air, tucking her left wing against her body and curling her right to cup the air. As they twisted, she straightened her neck toward the ground while at the same time pointing her tail skyward. Then, she closed her right wing.

For an instant they hung upside down, the world twisting ever so slowly above them even as the sky twisted below them. Then, the angle of her head and tail took effect as they began to plunge toward the ground, becoming an arrow pointed right for the grassy landscape below them. Faster and faster they flew – straight down. The dragon again shut her water lids to keep the rush of the wind out. This was why he needed the goggles.

She roared in sheer exhilaration, and felt his voice join hers as he lay flat against her neck.

At the key moment, she snapped her wings open and flared them wide. The force of their fall began to slow as the powerful limbs strained against the air rushing against them, and slowly they twisted through the air until the ground and sky were once again below and above them as they should be.

Even as they leveled off their mad plunge, they voiced their delight in their speed together. Flying so low that the wind of their passage rattled the wires of the power line just below them, they soared out over an empty field of grass. A small stream wound its way through a drainage ditch down the middle.

She began to bank, a long, lazy arc that would eventually bring them around and line them up with the opposite end of the airstrip. As they lined up with the runway, she began to flare her wings, bleeding off their excess speed. Then, she began to flap, her backstrokes bringing her hind legs down closer to the ground so they would touch first.

By the time her claws touched the grass, they had slowed to a near standstill, and she alighted delicately in the same spot where they had so recently, yet seemingly a lifetime ago, launched skyward.

She gently padded to a place where he could easily dismount without stepping on fallen apples, and once more crouched low and offered her foreleg as a step down.

Once he had climbed back onto the ground, she swiveled her head around and pressed her nose firmly against his chest. “Did you have fun, Brad?”

He unwound the scarf from his face, smiled, and planted a kiss on her scaley snout. “I did, Drak. Thank you.”